Unconditional
by Moon Lantern
Summary: "He had been stabbed, slashed, beaten, scorched, starved. He had lost his ring finger on his left hand, and smallest finger on his right... He would gladly give his whole arm for his illusions to be real, for his Shireen to be out there somewhere, alive." Stannis struggles to cope after the War is won. How can a glorious victory just feel so pyrrhic?
1. Chapter 1

Unconditional

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 **Author's Note: _"Look at me, Shireen, I have a duty to protect the realm and I know sometimes you feel as if I put that before you and your mother- don't interrupt me- but I also have a duty to protect you, and that duty is unconditional."_**

 **Well, it's Father's Day! So, I am writing this about Stannis and Shireen. Frankly, Episode 5x09, especially THAT scene, was a real cock up. This is what happened/what I think will happen based on A Dance with Dragons and Winds of Winter by George RR Martin. I found this hard to stay in a direct or reflective narrative, so I've used both. I hope it's not too bad.**

 **Shireen has a nightmare and comes to Stannis.**

 **By the way, to non-book readers: "Arya Stark" is actually Jeyne Poole in disguise.**

 **Warnings: Contains violence, angst and character death.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GAME OF THRONES OR A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE- THEY BELONG TO GRR MARTIN.**

 **Please read and review.**

* * *

STANNIS

"Your Grace, the Princess," Ser Davos began, edging into the king's chamber.

"What about her, Ser?" Stannis frowned.

The Onion Knight glanced apologetically at the Lord Commander, who was sat opposite the King and glancing over a map of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Davos, what's happened?" Stannis snapped. If something had happened he clearly preferred to know about it. He had no time for meaningless privacy. He pulled himself up to his full height.

"Oh no, it's nothing like that, your Grace!" Davos explained. "She just... had a nightmare..."

"A nightmare?" Stannis almost laughed. He honestly couldn't remember the last time Shireen had a nightmare, but he then realised: how would he know? Shireen had been kept away from the world for most of her life, mainly for her protection; the world was full of superstitious hollow heads who would rant about curses the moment they saw that little girl's face.

A lump caught in Stannis' throat as he thought of whether she actually understood. He turned away from Davos and the Lord Commander.

"She just needs some reassu-," Davos said.

"Send her in."

Davos nodded and exited. Within moments, Shireen entered the room, shivering from the harsh snow storm brewing outside.

"I'll leave you to it, your Grace," the Lord Commander smiled, rising. "Princess," he added, bowing to Shireen, who cracked a weak smile and nodded back. Stannis frowned slightly- this Jon Snow seemed to have a way with children; first Olli and now Shireen.

"Is all well, Shireen?" Stannis asked, once Lord Snow had left. His voice was hoarse, some might have mistook it for harsh. "Davos tells me you had a nightmare.

"It's just a dream, child."

"I know," Shireen muttered. She still hadn't sat down, her eyes averted from her father's gaze.

"Most of these dreams don't become real, you know that child, don't you?" Stannis said.

"I know."

"All right then, what made this one so bad?"

Shireen sat down; even with the greyscale scars trooped on one side of her face, her eyes were tired and her face too pale for someone her age. "I dreamt that... I was tied to a stake in the snow. I heard a voice say..." Shireen began shivering indoors, curling her delicate arms around her body- something she never did indoors.

"What did the voice say?" Stannis prompted, not unkindly.

"T-t-that my sacrifice would be necessary to clear the snows so everyone else could reach Winterfell."

Stannis fumed silently but his demeanour remained composed. An uncomfortable feeling slammed into his stomach like a crossbow bolt. "It was just a bad dream. A man will probably have hundreds of thousands in his lifetime, most do not come to pass."

"But some do, don't they?" Shireen replied. "Are you... will... never mind."

"You seem to be enjoying these little chats lately, don't you?" Stannis gave a grim smile, referring to when he had explained how and why he was certainly not ashamed of her. He had meant it as a teasing joke, but Shireen failed to see it. Her eyes were beseeching, her throat heaved like a stormy sea. _How could she actually think that?_ The Red Woman had told him that he would betray everything he held dear, but he would become king. She had told him about this Azhor Azai, who he was supposedly a reincarnation of. He knew of how the Azhor Azai had to sacrifice his own wife to forge his sword that helped defeat the White Walkers.

On the day Stannis had embraced the Lord of Light, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was readily presented with an enchanted sword that blazed light and could do wonders if used thoughtfully; there was no need for him to stab anyone through the heart. But lately he began to wonder if his sacrifice was yet to come.

Melisandre had lately taken a sudden interest in Shireen, and it wasn't down to a mutual liking for folklore and stories. _No, she wouldn't dare. Not without his explicit permission, which he would rather cut out his own heart than give._

"Shireen, you are my blood, do you understand? Not only that, but you are my heir. That throne will be your right, and duty, when I die. Do you know our words?"

 _"Our's is the Fury,"_ Shireen offered.

"That's right." Stannis stood up and walked over to the other side of the desk before leaning back on it. "People do not know what fury is; they think they do, but they have no idea. I swear that I will teach the true meaning of the word fury to whichever worthless soul that tries to harm you. They will beg for Lord Snow to come put them out of their misery."

"Thank you, Father," Shireen smiled, nodding with a tear in her eye. "I would be happy if you just took their head, but thank you, I appreciate the sentimate."

Stannis gave a slight chuckle. "Look at me, Shireen, I have a duty to protect the realm and I know sometimes you feel as if I put that before you and your mother- don't interrupt me- but I also have a duty to protect you, and that duty is unconditional."

"I know, and I will help in any way I can."

"That's good to know. This time next week I will be here." He pointed at the mountain region north of Winterfell on a map. "Lord Snow feels I should sup and dance with these mountain folk and they will fight for me."

"I have never seen you dance, Father," Shireen giggled.

"I've never felt the need to punish you like so yet." Shireen laughed.

"You, your lady mother and Melisandre will remain here. You will have your men at arms, Ser Axell and Ser Faros to take care of you. Learn what you can about the White Walkers, the wildlings and the undead, but do not get involved in anything! The library probably has been empty since Maester Aemon and Tarly left for Oldtown. If there is anything else you need speak to the Lord Commander, the boy is stubborn and honourable to a fault, but he is a man of his word, he will help you as much as he can." _And protect you with his life, if it comes down to it._

"I like Jon, he's very nice," Shireen commented.

Stannis sighed. "I'm sure you do. That will be all, then."

"I won't let you down!" Shireen beamed and almost skipped out of the chamber. Stannis watched her leave, and a lump caught in his throat. If only Shireen was a bit older, and Lord Snow took up his offer of becoming Jon Stark and was no longer bound by the vows of celibacy, if only they lived in a different time... Stannis shook his head and abandoned these thoughts from his mind.

* * *

Luckily, Stannis didn't have to do a single dance. He ate, made painful small talk, praised one of the daughters of Norrey by comparing her to Shireen and let Ser Justin Massey do the rest of the talking. The clans were very happy and declared for him.

Together they marched and recaptured Deepwood Motte, defeating the ironborn, capturing Asha Greyjoy, the daughter of the late Balon. As Lord Snow had predicted, bannerman of House Glover, Tallhart, Cerwyn and even Mormont came rallying to him, along with Mors Umber and his men. Stannis wondered how Davos was doing with the Manderlys.

Luck had it that Mors Umber found an 'old' man and young girl injured just outside of Winterfell. The man turned out to be the turncloak Theon Greyjoy, and the girl was Arya Stark, though she was a little less spirited than he had imagined or heard- she cried at the possibility of losing part of her nose to frostbite. She would be excorted to the Wall, where Jon Snow would receive her, surely glad to see his sister safe.

But she wasn't the only one to be afraid. It seems the winter snows had shattered Justin Massey's willpower. This man had been a loyal and competent soldier, until recently his whining and demoralising thought of defeat and death had made him an embarrassment. Maybe seeing Asha Greyjoy had robbed him of his senses and gotten him soft in the head; none of the other men complained so despite the debilitating snow storms and the depletion of resources. Stannis, who had held Storm's End for a whole year and nearly starved to death, had no patience to listen to that any longer. What was it with this power women had over men, firstly his brother Robert and now Massey? Nevertheless, Massey deserved to be put to use and not ridiculed. He would be sent to Essos to hire no fewer than twenty thousand sellswords.

"In Braavos you may hear rumours of my death, they may even be true; you will find me those sellswords nonetheless," he had ordered. "You will avenge my death and place Shireen on the Iron Throne, as is her right and duty."

Thanks to Mors Umber, Aenys Frey had fallen into a ditch and broken his neck, leaving Hosteen "Ser Stupid" Frey to lead Bolton's vanguard.

"He is angry now," Greyjoy had told him.

Stannis had scoffed. "Good. Angry men make stupid mistakes and Hosteen Frey was stupid to begin with."

Stannis only had to march forwards slowly, as Hosteen's vanguard charged at him. He ordered his army to trust their king and shield their eyes at his signal. Most of them were on foot and today that would be a good thing.

* * *

Dawn had broken into a golden ray that would almost blind the Frey cavalry that was coming at them. At fifty feet away, Stannis drew Lightbringer and gave the order and shielded his eyes. Hosteen's vanguard toppled from their agitated horses, blinded by the dawn and Lightbringer.

Stannis' army routed them with a vengeance. With the Stark girl gone and the vanguard destroyed, the northmen inside Winterfell turned on Bolton and opened the gates to him- the North was his!

* * *

"I, Stannis of House Baratheon, First of my Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, name you a traitor and sentence you to death! Any last words? Say them quickly!"

"I can be useful to you!" Ramsay cried. "I will fight your enemies! I will make them feel pain like nothing they've felt before!"

Stannis nodded to Ser Richard Horpe, who pushed the new Lord Bolton down on the block, for Roose had been shot with three crossbow bolts and cut down when Winterfell had mutineed. Stannis slashed his sword, severing Ramsay Bolton's neck, a mercy he did not truly deserve. But nothing Stannis could do could actually make up for the pain and sorrow this man had caused.

Next it was the turncloack Theon Greyjoy's turn. Just as the condemned man broke down in tears and apologised for the hurt he had caused, much to the anger of the Northmen who called for his head, a messenger arrived in the godswood of Winterfell.

The messenger had supposedly arrived from Castle Black and his hands were trembling. He handed Stannis a tear soaked letter that was hardly legible. "Forgive me, your Grace," he muttered.

Stannis snatched the letter and opened it, it was from Selyse- it began with the words: _Please, forgive me._

Stannis dropped his sword to the ground and his fist curled around the letter, crushing it. He turned away and ran into the castle. It felt like a hot arrow had pierced his heart a hundred times. _No, no, it could not be! It just couldn't be real! It had to be a jest, a sick jest, but not real!_

Stannis thought back to that day many years ago, when Steffon Baratheon and Cassana Estermont's ship braved the storms and was seeing distance away from docking. But the storms and rocks conspired together to destroy that ship and his parents along with it. That was the day Stannis lost his faith in any god, especially the Seven that he had been raised to believe in. But this was a thousand times worse.

Stannis roared in fury and overturned the desk, next the shelf was the victim of his anger. He curled a fist and battered the glass window. It shattered bleeding his hand, excruciating it with pain, as if it would take away the pain inside, but he did not care. His bannerman were probably whispering about him, but today he did not care.

It took him to even realise that a tear was falling down his face, as his eyes burned.

 _It was you,_ a voice told him. _You caused it. You allowed it to happen. You left her there._

 _I left her guarded and under protection!_

 _You did, but you miscalculated. You trusted Snow, Melisandre, Selyse and her men. Shireen trusted you, and paid the price!_

Stannis took a deep breath, drying his eyes, and facing the only thing remaining- fury. He had tolerated Melisandre purely because she had proven useful with her visions and magic, an asset he couldn't afford to set aside back then. But this betrayal was something he could not ignore. He would leave Mors Umber as Castellan of Winterfell, and sail North to the Wall to exact justice for Shireen. His duty to the realm could wait a little longer, his duty to Shireen was unconditional.

He returned to the godswood to swiftly carry out the sentence and put Greyjoy out of his misery. He ordered Horpe and Sugggs to prepare to sail from Deepwood Motte back to the Wall, they could liberate Torrhen's Square on the way.

* * *

The Red Woman went as pale as a ghost when she saw him. She and a few of her men begged for mercy, tried to explain that they thought he was dead. Apparently, a letter from the Bastard of Bolton had arrived saying that Stannis had been killed and he knew things that he shouldn't have known- like about the wildling princess Val, Mance Rayder's son and this plot by Melisandre to switch Rayder with another so he could travel to Winterfell to rescue Arya Stark. Stannis had no energy left for this matter, but was livid when he found out how Jon Snow had been stabbed to death by mutineers after recruiting some wildlings to attack Winterfell to avenge Stannis and protect his wife and daughter from the Bastard's demands.

Melisandre had sacrificed Shireen to the fire to resurrect Jon Snow as the new Azhor Azai. Snow swore he had no idea that this is what Melisandre was planning or how she had done it, though he had his suspiscions.

Selyse had done nothing but wept as Melisandre carried out her twisted ritual. She did nothing but weep as Shireen had cried out for help as the flames took her.

Jon Snow begged for forgiveness, wishing he had done more. Stannis minded to have his head in a rage- how was he alive, while Shireen had died? Why did the Night's Watch do nothing to this witch?

Stannis composed himself, and took a deep breath. "On your feet, Lord Snow, you did not order this, because you would not be alive if you did."

Stannis ordered Melisandre to be tied to the stake and have the blood vessel in her thigh cut.

"You need me, my King!" she protested, as Clayton Suggs ripped into her leg causing her to scream. "I did only what I thought necessary to protect the realm from the Long Night! I can help you now, I will serve you!"

Stannis nodded to the pink robed priest that Horpe had found, a disillusioned but skillful red priest, a reader of flames, who, until recently, was involved in a life mission to protect the smallfolk from the brutality of the nobles. He had correctly predicted what had happened and Stannis promised him a role in protecting the world and bringing about peace for his services. His name was Thoros of Myr.

"Sire, I should probably say that R'hllor doesn't actually like live burnings, we should kill her first, if we must," Thoros counseled. "Whatever she has told you is a deviation from our faith."

"I'm not doing this for R'hllor," Stannis said hoarsely. "I'm doing this for justice... for my Shireen." _For my failure in protecting her. For my failure in my unconditional duty."_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

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 **Author's Note: " _He had been stabbed, slashed, beaten, scorched, starved. He had lost his ring finger on his left hand, and smallest finger on his right. He would gladly give his whole arm for his illusions to be real, for his Shireen to be out there somewhere, alive."_**

 **Hello again! I wasn't initially sure I would even write this but, I am now glad I did. This is Stannis trying to go on five years after the events of Chapter 1. He may seem a little OOC at times, but that's because everything is different and he is struggling to cope.**

 **Book readers will see what I'm trying to do later on. ;)**

 **I hope you enjoy, but it is a tear jerker. :(**

* * *

THE HOLLOW KING

5 YEARS LATER

House Baratheon was triumphant, House Baratheon emerged victorious, the Seven Kingdoms were safe once more- the threat of the Others was finally elimanted. The King stood upon his balcony of the Red Keep, facing West from Aegon's Hill. People were laughing, chattering, drinking and dancing all through the city on this warm afternoon.

In the distance and beyond the walls, there was a little girl- dirty faced but seemingly happy, playing in a pond. She looked up from her game and recognised him even from several metres away and waved.

The King caught a lump in his throat, but nodded at her. It was then her older sister appeared, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the water. The older girl's brown hair covered the left side of her face, she seemed like she was in her late teens. She brushed her hair back and smiled apologetically, revealing what looked like scars.

A simultaneous chill and burn overcame the King as he was forced to look away and retreat inside, like a loosing general. He had been stabbed, slashed, beaten, scorched, starved. He had lost his ring finger on his left hand, and smallest finger on his right- the one that he would sometimes use to promise her little things. He would gladly give his whole arm for his illusions to be real, for his Shireen to be out there somewhere, alive.

As a tear trickled down his worn face, he gave a grim laugh. He had fought the Boltons in the North, the Iron Islanders, the Targaryens and even an army of Others, but a girl who would have been the same age as Shireen had made him retreat.

 _Is this how Robert felt, when he lost Lyanna Stark, the only person that mattered to him?_ Stannis empathised. _Was he always this depressed and lonely?_ He reached for a goblet of wine- his third one that day- and drank.

* * *

THE MASTER OF LAWS

"Your Grace!" Edmure Tully's voice echoed. He excitedly descended down the stairs, almost skipping a few and breaking his neck. He jogged into the chamber that the King was sitting in.

Stannis looked up from the two simple tombs before him. Edmure froze, with a look of fear on his face. The older man's skin was pale, sagging and worn like old leather. He looked visibly thinner than a week ago, and there was a strange smell of sweat and death.

Edmure turned to the tombs. _Here lies Queen Selyse of House Baratheon, Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen to King Stannis._

 _Here lies Princess Shireen the Sharp of House Baratheon- administrator, scholar, teacher, and beloved daughter to King Stannis._

"Y-your Grace, forgive me," Edmure apologised. Stannis had been kind to him, respected him since the day he had negotiated peace for the Houses of the Westerlands. He had been their prisoner, along with Rosilin and their daughter, Cat. But when Stannis Baratheon the Unforgiving arrived at Ashemark, his captors had sent him to negotiate, expecting Stannis to kill him or reject the offer and then they could force him to fight for them by keeping Rosilin and Cat hostage.

However, the Marbrands of Ashemark and Gawain Westerling forewarned him, in turn he had met with Stannis with them by his side. Edmure had no idea what he was doing and knew the lives of his wife, daughter and himself depended on his next words. So Edmure had just told his story about who he was, why he declared for Robb, why he had only wanted to protect his people from the rampage of Tywin Lannister and Gregor Clegane, what had happened and now his own predicament.

The King, after either being moved or bored of listening to Edmure, had offered the Westerlands peace if they bent the knee. The northern region was more willing, and the southern region accepted once it became apparent that the Iron Throne was too busy dealing with the new contender Aegon, claiming to be the son of Rhaegar Targaryen. Not only was Riverrun restored that month, but Edmure Tully was proclaimed the Warden of the West after Rosilin and Cat were safely out of the reach of Casterly Rock.

Now, he was also Master of Laws. Life could not be much better for Edmure, and he had now received welcome news, but the void in Stannis' eyes left a pit in Edmure's skin.

"Speak, my lord," the King ordered softly but surely.

"I-I came to r-request..."

"You came to request my leave to take time away to celebrate the birth of your child?" Stannis said coldly, facing away.

Edmure opened his mouth and tried to speak, he had to swallow before speaking. "Yes, sire, if I could have a fortnight?"

"Take a moon, my lord," Stannis ordered. "Is this your third one?"

"Yes, sire, I have a girl, a boy and a girl now. We thought about naming her... Shireen, if your Grace would permit it?" Edmure knew that the King's daughter had been killed years ago, by some sorceress, a shadowcat or a wildling warg, but that was a subject neither of the King's men dared broach, nor did Stannis ever speak of. The Hand had actually recommended it, and Edmure was suspicious at first. But despite their differences, the Hand was not playing him.

"May she live a long and safe life, Lord Tully. May the world we build be worth it all." For a moment, Edmure thought he heard the King's voice breaking. Should he stay and make sure he was all right?

"Go, my lord, be with your family." Stannis' voice was now terse, as it usually was.

Edmure smiled. "Thank you, your Grace."

* * *

THE HAND OF THE KING

"I don't remember!" the boy said.

"Think," the Hand commanded gently, but firmly. "You know the northern Free Cities, name them.

"Brave... Pirates... Love... Queens." The Hand grinned, as the boy that resembled a bull blushed.

"Braavos, Pentos... Qohor... Lorath?"

"Good, now shoot the targets, Gendry!"

Gendry gave a small but proud smile. He raised his nocked bow and drew the bowstring like he had been dying to do. He loosened the arrow at the target that was sixty feet away and managed to hit the bullseye.

The Hand patted Gendry on the shoulder. "Your archery is a tad better than your geography, but keep going at it, my man."

"Lord Hand," a voice called from behind him. It was Garlan Tyrell- the man who was the King's final defier at King's Landing, had almost led the second defence of King's Landing like Lord Tyrion had done years ago. However, at the eleventh hour, Garlan offered himself up as hostage to ensure Lord Willas' and Highgarden's loyalty, as well as the release of Margaery Tyrell from the Faith's custody. Stannis had accepted those terms and King's Landing was sacked without the shedding of any blood, except a few Lannister supporters.

"Yes, Garlan, what is it?" the Hand queried.

"His Grace requires your presence at his chambers," Garlan replied cautiously, and nor could anyone blame him for being guarded, because he was a hostage and not everyone was civil or discreet about that fact.

The Hand nodded towards Gendry and headed to the King's chambers. When he got there, he found Stannis in bed, which was completely out of character, even when the King was known to be ill, he had never looked so deflated and feverish.

The Hand knelt, but Stannis waved him up with a shivering hand. He then gave a grimace.

"You called for me, your Grace."

"Can you not feel it?" Stannis croaked, pressing his head. "That noise, that... dull... throbbing... ache...?"

Before the Hand could reply, Stannis cut him off.

"Your predecessor was a wise man- a good and brave man... but a very wise one. He told me that to be a worthy king, I must put my duties before my rights. Tell me, Lord Stark, did I fail?"

A lump caught in Jon's throat, for Davos Seaworth was a great man, who gave his life in the fight against the pretender Aegon Targaryen, in order to protect Gendry Tauros, who was caught up in all of this. With his dying breath he had petitioned for Gendry to be legitimised and taught the ways of a highborn. But there was also the uncomfortable truth- by rights Jon should have been dead- but he was alive and an innocent girl had been killed to restore him to life.

"The realm is safe and at peace, the White Walkers are gone now, because you did your duty," Jon assured him.

"I did part of my duty, Lord Stark," Stannis croaked. "Only part... Even then I was fulfilling my right of vengeance..."

"No one could have predicted what Melisandre would do, it is no use blaming yourself now!"

Stannis nodded uncertainly. He glanced towards the window. "I once saw of a crown of fire on my head, consuming my flesh... I feel the pain, Lord Stark... Before, I was driven by my urge to keep going, to fight on for Shireen's memory, for this realm... but now, all I can feel is the burning in my heart, my head and my whole body..."

"Your Grace, you need to be seen by a Maester," Jon counselled. "You need to get better and rule."

"I am a soldier, my lord, I have always been a soldier- I have no place during peace!" Stannis said.

Jon was baffled, he had never seen Stannis Baratheon talk about himself that way- suddenly the room fell cold. "What about to keep the peace?"

Stannis gave half chuckle. "A king cannot be mere guard waiting and lingering for a war to break out... I will not make the same mistake my brother Robert did."

"You're dying," Jon said quietly.

Stannis smiled grimly.

"So who will be your heir?" Jon asked. The realm needed stability, it had just recovered from a civil war and a devastating war against the White Walkers, and there was still a potential threat from the Dragon Queen in the years to come!

"I have inspired little love during peace; and mainly respect during war, all because I followed your counsel, Lord Stark, do you remember?"

"I remember."

"You are a wiser and stronger man than I ever was ... and we need people like you- people to rule with honour, justice and integrity, but those who can unite others..."

Jon's eyes flared up and his heart began racing. "Your Grace, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I am, Lord Stark," Stannis croaked.

"I am a legitmised bastard!" Jon gasped. _I know what happened last time a king named someone who wasn't his heir as his successor!_

Stannis seemingly ignored him. "Tell me about that boy: Gendry."

Jon smiled wistfully. "He's doing well, I'm teaching him geography and archery at the same time."

"And what of the other two- Mya and Edric?"

"Mya is on her way from the Vale, and we're still looking for Edric across the Narrow Sea," Jon reported.

"Good..." Stannis said. He seemed like he was about to say something but stopped himself short, before resuming a grim smile.

"Davos saw the merit in legitimising Gendry, he is family, I have learned the hard way how important... that is... Help him, Jon, make him better than me..." A tear fell from Stannis' blue eyes, and Jon could not help but feel his own wanting to flow. It was the first time that Stannis Baratheon had ever called him by his first name. Could he do what was being asked of him? Many people had put him on a pedestal, believed in him, thought he shared great promise amongst hundreds- but that did not stop a fair few of those to stab him to death. _I am not that boy any more- I am a man grown._

"You have my word," Jon promised, looking away. "But how could I rule? Why would the realm accept me as your successor, especially since there is talk of the Dragon Queen invading?"

Stannis gave a painful chuckle. "If she does, you will be prepared."

"Sire, she has dragons and the lineage, if you die without issue, why not legitimise Gendry as a Baratheon than a Tauros? The realm already owes you gratitude for saving them from the Others, they will follow your nephew!" Jon protested.

"And you know everything, do you, Jon Stark?" Stannis said. "Even dragons have their bane, do you know it?"

"I do," Jon replied.

"And as for lineage... There is something you must know, Jon!" Stannis weazed, before breaking into a fit of coughs. Jon rose to get him a cup of wine from a red jug, but the King waved a negative before pointing to a grey jug with a bowl of salt next to it.

Jon gave a faint smile, and for a moment Stannis Baratheon the warrior returned as he sat up in his bed and took a sip with what Jon considered unbelievable resilience.

"What I'm about... to tell you... might disturb you and make you angry... but you must do your duty- promise me you will! Promise me!" Stannis gripped Jon's arm as if he was a beggar and tugged with urgency.

 _"Kill the boy and let the man be born_ ," Jon quoted. Stannis seemed to ease somewhat.

"There's a man in my solar waiting with Lady Mira Forrester, he is of what some call frogmen."

"Crannogmen," Jon corrected. "Who is he, your Grace?" He felt a chill erupt through the hairs on his neck and back- he felt his heart rate quicken, but couldn't explain why.

"His name is Howland Reed, and he has the answer to who your mother was... and your parentage... and the answer to the realm..."

* * *

Stannis Baratheon had once vowed never to believe in any god, ever since he saw his parents die. He had never been an easy man to love, let alone like, but those who knew him respected him at some level.

Many would see him as a proud warrior who wanted to fight on after Blackwater despite imminent defeat, who saved the realm from Mance Rayder, who liberated the North and united the Seven Kingdoms to stand against the Others, who held Storm's End for a whole year at the tender age of only eighteen.

But others knew him as the man who refused to eat at the lifting of that siege until his men had eaten, as a teacher who taught his squires how to be not only a skillful knight, but an honourable and wise knight. He was a man whose actions spoke much louder than his words and shone brighter than his smile. He was a man who truly loved his daughter, Shireen, and her death was his greyscale, his cancer, that went slow and destroyed him piece by piece.

Nine days after he gave Lord Howland Reed a mysterious decree, Stannis the Stout Hearted passed from this world, telling everyone that he hoped there was an afterlife where he could see his Shireen again, along with his brothers, parents, wife and his loved ones, so he could ask their forgiveness.

* * *

 **Author's Note: As the Night's Watch would say: And now his watch has ended...**

 **What did you think? How many of you realised that the Hand was Jon? How many saw the shout outs to other scenes? ;)**

 **I am a believer of the theory R+L=J, but not in the version everyone seems to believe. If anyone wants me to explain anything let me know. Please let me know what you thought as well. ;)**


End file.
